I Am A Seed

I am a seed
Yes, only a seed
Do not be fooled by my stature
Or by these long, wavy arms
Dotted with green leaves, winged creatures and crawling critters

I may seem imposing and intimidating
Beautiful and artistic
A masterpiece of nature
But believe me when I say
I am just a seed

Deep inside this solid trunk
Is a heart that may not be visible to your eyes
But it is there and it is beating
With the same beats that beat when
I was the size of a pea
In that heart lies a voice
That tells me despite the years gone by
I am still a seed

When I close my eyes
I reflect upon the time
And experiences I have had
I remember some of them most vividly
Most of them make me smile
Yes, when I close my eyes
I forget who I really am
I become a child again
The darkness is a magical time-machine
That takes me all the way back
Before all the twigs came to be
Before all the flowers blossomed
Before I sprouted
I lose myself in those thoughts
Blurring the thin line of reality
As I contemplate about anything and everything

Darkness Upon My Cells

Why, Heart, Why?

Tired Of Love

A Little Romantically Crazy

What Not To Say At A Funeral #1

Mark was a dear friend
I had known him for fifty years
Or perhaps… uh… it was forty years
Um… Dear, how old am I?

Seventy-five (your wife shouts from the crowd)

Seventy-five, my my (look a bit surprised)
That means I had known him for eighty years
Seems an awful lot when you come to think of it
I honestly don’t remember spending so many years with him
Ah, the mind is always playing tricks on you
Making you forget things you did do and
Making you remember things you can never have possibly done
But that’s a story for another day
Now, where was I?

Mark (wife shouts again from the crowd)

Mark? Mark who?

Mark’s funeral, Dear (wife bites her lips and suppresses her urge to drag you off the stage, not because she does not want to create a scene at a funeral but because perhaps she is afraid one of her body parts might snap)

Ah yes, Mark. He was a fine young man
Who left us before his time
But nothing can be said of covid
Takes the finest young men and
Spares weak old men like me
(Cough a couple of times)

Dear, did you bring my meds?
(Wife shakes her head fervently)
Perhaps I have it in my pockets somewhere
(Scan your pockets hurriedly)
Ah, the lottery ticket
Now that’s where it was all the time
Should have guessed it
Should have guessed it
24, um… now what’s this

(Wife clears her throat loudly)

Ah, Mark
Mark, Mark, Mark (try to remember a memory)
Well, he always was fascinated by one thing
One thing always
(Scratch your head)
Dolls (triumphantly remembering)
Yes, Mark was always obsessed with dolls
Even at a young age, he wanted to understand
Dissect and investigate dolls
He had a whole collection of it which he stored in a secret cabinet in his room
(Mark’s wife gasps)
Yes, yes, I know
He used to brag to me that his wife didn’t have a clue about it
I thought he was wrong but ah, now I know

He also told me about his last wish
But what it was I can’t remember
I only know that he only told me about it
I guess it doesn’t matter now that Clark is dead

The Sad Life Of A Treasure Box

Our Love Our Love

Little Lies

While Waiting For A Train On A Tuesday Morning

I whisper sometimes to myself
If it is worth it
To give up a hundred happinesses
To avoid a single sadness

It makes me wonder to see
People sharing a part of their soul
With others; they make it seem so easy

Then I also reflect on solitude
That which makes a lot of people dread
Because it disguises itself as loneliness

I assure myself that I am okay
That solitude can be counted as a friend
That when others think I am talking to myself
I am actually conversing with my soul